


Wrong Place, Right Time

by Elsey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John (past), Bets, Blood, F/M, Hospitalization, I fucking lied, I swear to God this was meant to be happy, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Breakdown, Stabbing, These tags are seriously going downhill, Tumblr Prompt, Well I fucked that up, Why must I always make Dean suffer psychologically?, attempted suicide, break and enter, get over it, no happy ending, teacher!Cas, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:45:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsey/pseuds/Elsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural AU</p><p>Castiel awakes to find someone sleeping on his couch, someone who he has never seen before, but has a feeling he may want to see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Interloper

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt from Tumblr user tickatocka and written for her post:
> 
> "i really want an "i accidentally broke into your house/apartment because my friend lives next door to you and i was in the area, drunk, and i thought i was crawling into the right window and falling asleep on the right couch (and i did wonder when my friend got two cats but i didn't question it) so now i'm hungover and shirtless in your living room and um hi howya doin" au"
> 
> Found it! THIS POST: http://tickatocka.tumblr.com/post/85456038831/i-really-want-an-i-accidentally-broke-into-your
> 
> All credit for the prompt goes to them, sorry for no tagging, I'm not very technologically advanced.

Castiel moved a hand to cover his mouth as a loud, drawn out yawn escaped him. Shuffling his bare feet along the chilled floors, he nearly tripped over the long pajama legs and a side table. He banged on Gabriel’s door in an attempt to wake him, getting a bang back, most likely a shoe, but you never know, Castiel once found a stuffed raccoon being chucked at him. Castiel made his way around the small house, going down the flight of stairs and ending up walking through the living room to get to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, slowly orientating himself around and locking his eyes on the couch. Breath caught in his throat, Castiel dashed into the kitchen, retrieving the largest knife he had and shakily creeping back into the living room.

Castiel kept the hand with the knife poised, ready to stab, and his free hand was left to trail along the wall, which he was slinking along, trying to avoid the creaks that the floor made. Castiel approached the couch, eyeing the loudly snoring figure with extreme caution. He was… well, he was cute, if Castiel was being honest. He was passed right out, a line of drool running down his freckled face, short blond hair nearly invisible with a hand covering it. The other hand was draped over the couch. The man was wearing a band t shirt with jeans on, and Castiel realized the jeans were undone, revealing a pair of what looked to be teddy bear boxers. Charming. A breeze slithered into the room from an open window and Castiel shivered, soon noticing that he had forgotten a shirt for himself.

Carefully, Castiel rounded the couch, grabbing a TV remote and using it to poke the man’s shoulder. Nothing. He poked him again with, once more, no reaction. Figuring that he was probably shitfaced and wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, Castiel stood back and threw the remote at the man. He jumped up immediately, pants falling around his ankles, arms in the air, vibrant green eyes sparkling as he quickly looked around the room, settling on a topless Castiel holding a knife tightly in his right hand. The man raised his hands in front of him before squinting, a flash of pain running through his head. He looked down, realizing that no one should be seeing the bears that were displayed.

“I’m just gonna… go ahead and, uh, fix these,” he said, voice low and harmonious. Castiel felt a shiver travel down his spine at the voice, everything in his being telling him to hear more of it. The man pulled his pants up, quickly buckling the belt before raising his hands once more. “Fuck, uh, so basically, I broke into your house because my friend lives next door and in my drunken mind, I _thought_ this was his window I was crawling through and his couch I was crashing on. I wondered when the hell he got plants and painted the walls white, but I was pretty fucking drunk, and basically I’m sorry. How ya’ doin’, I’m Dean.” Dean stuck his hand out and Castiel gave it a stern look as it dropped. Castiel raised an eyebrow and held the knife up, quickly chucking it into the front hall out of the reach of both of the men. Castiel raised an eyebrow.

“Castiel,” was all he said, shivering slightly as another breeze came through the window.

“Well, uh, nice meeting you Cas, but I’m sure Benny is about to shit a brick, so I should go,” Dean said, pointing a thumb at the window and casually walking backwards, tripping over his undone laces. Castiel watched silently as he crawled out the window and into a bush, disappearing across the lawn and over to Castiel’s neighbour’s house.

“My name isn’t Cas!” he yelled out the window at the running man.

What the fuck just happened?

………..

“So he was just lying there on the couch?” Gabriel asked between mouthfuls of pancakes. Who was Castiel kidding, it was just a plate of maple syrup and a small amount of barely cooked pancake batter.

“Yes, that is the summary of the situation. He claimed to be friends with Benny, but I assumed Benny to be of a higher intelligence than the likes of that man,” Castiel said, taking a bite out of his apple as his eyes scanned the morning paper.

“I don’t know, bro, he sounds pretty great to me,” Gabriel said, a devious grin lighting up his face.

“Gabriel, you are twenty-nine years old, when are you going to learn that you are too old to go and party?” Castiel asked.

“Whatever, mom,” Gabriel teased, standing and tossing his plate on the counter. Gabriel stretched, showing Castiel just a little too much of the nonexistent abs than he would have liked. Gabriel ruffled his already messy hair as he walked out of the kitchen. “I’m off to get ready for work! Enjoy the day, Castiel! Seize it! Do something great! Fuck bitches! Or Dean, if that’s your fancy!” Gabriel ran up the stairs before Castiel could throw something at him, the bathroom door slamming closed behind him. Castiel sighed heavily, slumping down into his chair. He flipped through the pages, suddenly realizing that he had not yet retrieved the knife. Standing, Castiel set the newspaper down and made his way to the front hall. He quickly picked the blade up, nicking his finger and sticking it into his mouth, the blood soon stopping. Grumbling to himself, Castiel was about to walk back to the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. Quickly turning back, Castiel flung it open, greeted by sunlight and the looming figure of his neighbour, Benny Lafitte.

“Benny, how can I be of assistance?” Castiel asked, gesturing for the man to enter. He stopped when he saw the interloper behind him. Eyebrows scrunched together, Castiel looked the man up and down. God damn he was cute. No! Castiel shouldn’t be thinking in that manner. This man had broken into the house. But shit, was he hot.

“I do believe that _this_ owes you an apology, brother,” Benny said, shoving Dean forward. Dean stumbled, catching himself in the doorway and grinning at Castiel. Castiel crossed his arms over his t shirt, eyebrow raised, looking expectantly at the barely legal boy.

“Yeah, well, sorry, didn’t mean to break and enter,” Dean said, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. Castiel saw him flip the bird at Benny, who swatted him. Castiel looked at Dean for a moment longer, making him shift uncomfortably. Benny had a small smile on his face at Dean’s discomfort.

“All if forgiven,” Castiel finally said. The grin was back Dean’s face as he looked Castiel up and down, licking his lips. Castiel’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Cassie, shower’s open!” Gabriel yelled down, marching towards the stairs in just a towel. A very low hanging towel.

“Gabriel! Company! Put some pants on!” Castiel yelled up the stairs, putting his hand on his temple. He heard footsteps running down the stairs and groaned loudly. Gabriel stood there, sopping wet, looking at the men in the doorway.

“Benny! And you- I don’t know you,” Gabriel said, pointing a finger at Dean before quickly readjusting his towel.

“Dean,” was all he said, looking away as he resisted laughing at this soaked man with crazy brown hair.

“Come in, Cassie will get you some food!” Gabriel said, quickly grabbing a startled Dean’s wrist and dragging him in. Benny stepped back before Gabriel got too handsy.

“I need to work. Good seeing you Castiel,” was all Benny said before quickly disappearing off of the front stoop, leaving a quickly angering Castiel, a sopping Gabriel and a reddening Dean, who was using all of the willpower he possessed to not laugh.

“Well, I’ll be going,” Dean said, turning on his heel. Gabriel grabbed his shoulder, giving Castiel a mischievous look full of wriggling eyebrows.

“No way Jose. I want all of the deets on how you ended up as my brother’s own personal couch potato,” Gabriel said, shooting a wink at Castiel and mouthing _cute_ , to which Castiel promptly smacked himself in the face. Gabriel, always the lady’s man, was one of the very few people who knew he was gay. And Castiel had regretted telling him from the moment he uttered the words. Castiel looked over to see that same shiteating grin on Dean’s face.

“Naw, man, I don’t want to intrude,” Dean said, once more reaching for the door.

“Oi! Close that thing, you’re staying and cleaning your assprints off of my couch!” Gabriel said. Dean turned back to him with a cocked eyebrow.

“The pants were on the whole time, man.”

“Not from what I heard.” Gabriel winked over at Castiel.

“Gabriel! Fuck off!” Castiel commanded, getting raised hands from his brother. Gabriel may have been older, but Castiel was taller and stronger. Also, maybe a little better looking. Not that Gabriel would ever admit that.

“Fine, fine. You two lovebirds catch up. I’ll be back, don’t move!” Gabriel said hurriedly, running up the stairs at lightning speed. Dean watched him go, collapsing into a fit of laughter as soon as Gabriel’s door closed. Castiel cracked a smile at the infectious sound, but soon went back to his stony composure.

“What is so comical?” he questioned, arms crossed. Dean just laughed harder, clutching his sides.

“I fucking… towel… too goddam short,” Dean gasped out, face bright red with laughter. The colour drained from Castiel’s face as he quickly caught on. A smile threatened his lips, and he was soon laughing with Dean, whether he wanted to or not. Soon, they managed to catch their breath and quiet down.

“You must be very hung over. Would you care for some aspirin?” Castiel asked, gesturing to the kitchen.

“You know, for a guy that just got his house broken into, you’re pretty fucking chill,” Dean said, grinning. Castiel shrugged.

“If someone was going to sneak in and crash of the couch, I’m glad that it could be you.”


	2. What Was Life Like Before You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finds himself connecting easily with Dean, and realizes exactly what Dean's heritage is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you so much for so many Kudos and comments already! I live for your critiques and compliments!
> 
> Just a heads up- I have no idea how the American school system works, so I'm going off of my own knowledge of my own. Basically, it's around May, and school is still in. There also isn't homeroom. I don't know what that is, but I continue to read about it in fics. Supply teachers also get emails about their teaching schedules here, so that's why that was included.
> 
> Anyways! I hope you all enjoy!

Castiel led Dean to the kitchen from the front hall. Dean was looking around the rather small house with a chuckle, and all but collapsed in laughter at the sight of the couch.

“I’m glad to see you’re taking humour out of this situation,” Castiel smirked.

“And you’re not?” Dean asked, a sly grin slipping across his face. Castiel chuckled.

“I do admit that it was quite entertaining to see Benny bring you over here for a formal apology.”

“Ah yes. I’m just so good at those.” They reached the kitchen, and Castiel poured himself another mug of coffee. Dean pulled a chair out from the table, swinging it around and straddling it from behind. Castiel leaned against the counter, slowly feeling more and more awake as he drank from the cup. “Hey, toss me an apple.”

“First you defile my couch and now you want my fruit?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Castiel shrugged, tossing him a bright green fruit. Dean frowned, throwing it back.

“What?” Castiel asked, catching it one handed.

“The green ones taste like shit, man.”

“They’re Gabriel’s.”

“Thank God.” Castiel whipped a red one at him, Dean barely dodging it. Castiel glanced at the wall clock; was it really only seven am? How early had he awoken? Quarter to five, right. He groaned, running a hand through his hair. How was Dean so chipper?

“Morning sunshine and ass print leaver!” Gabriel said, striding into the kitchen in his usual attire of a shirt and jeans. God forbid he dress properly for once in his life.

“Fuck off,” Dean called to him as Gabriel tried to snatch a cookie from the jar on the counter. Castiel swatted his hand, putting a Granny Smith into his hands. Gabriel rolled his eyes, taking a bite from the fruit. As Castiel recalled, they were “At least sour and not as fucking shitty as those red bastards”.

“Hey!” Gabriel said, pointing a finger at Dean with a mouthful of fruit. “Don’t use that tone with me, young interloper.”

“Whatever, old man,” Dean teased. Castiel chuckled, taking another sip of his coffee. This felt so… natural. As if Dean was always here, or as if Dean _should_ always be here. Gabriel swiped Dean’s own apple, setting it on the counter and out of Dean's reach.. Dean scowled at the brown haired man.

“Well, I’m off to work. Because, unlike some people,” Gabriel said, shooting a look at Dean, “I _have_ one.”

“Yeah, have fun at the retirement home, pops. And, for your information, I have a better job than you ever will.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“And would that happen to be your own business, short stuff?” Dean stood, towering over Gabriel, who, being Gabriel, grabbed a chair and stood on it. Castiel didn’t like where this was going.

“As if you have a business,” Dean scoffed, sitting (and thankfully not standing) on his chair. Gabriel hopped down, pulling a picture of himself and Castiel before a brightly coloured toy store off the wall, shoving it in Dean’s face. “Well thank God! If I ever need an emergency play with me Elmo, I’ll hit you up!” Gabriel scowled.

“I’m liking your boy toy less and less, Castiel.”

“Boy toy?” Castiel asked.

“Oh forget it! Not like the squirt does anything important anyways,” Gabriel said, beginning to leave the room.

“I’m a mechanic, douchewad. I _help_ people.”

“Yes, sure you are, young Padawan,” Gabriel said with a roll of his eyes, swiping his keys from the counter and leaving the room, then the house.

“What a douche,” Dean commented. Castiel shrugged.

“He’s putting a roof over my head, so I deal with it.” Dean shrugged, standing from his chair and grabbing his apple, which Gabriel had left on the counter. He took another bite. Castiel glanced at the clock. That little fiasco only took seven minutes out of his life. “So, a mechanic?” Dean nodded.

“It’s putting me through school, so.”

“You’re in school?”

“Yeah…?”

“How old _are_ you?”

“Dude, I’m twenty, why?”

“I- I thought you were older,” Castiel muttered.

“Yeah, I get that a lot. I think it’s the dashing good looks. Castiel rolled his eyes. “And how old are you, Asstiel?” Castiel punched him lightly at the ‘nickname’.

“I’m twenty-four.” Dean whistled.

“An older man. My oh my.” Castiel snorted.

“And older man who needs to be at school in half an hour,” he said, looking once more at the clock.

“School? What are you, some kind of PhD candidate?”

“No, I’m a teacher. Well, a substitute, for now.”

“Where you teaching?” Dean asked, sitting in his seat once more.

“Today I’m at Lincoln,” Castiel said, looking to the fridge for his schedule. “Teaching tenth grade history all day. Just awesome.” Castiel sounded bitter.

“They tell you beforehand?”

“In this school district, for some reason.”

“Wait, Lincoln, right?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“Tenth grade?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Maybe you’ll get my brother.”

“You have a brother?”

“Two, actually, but Sammy’s in grade ten at Lincoln right now. I’m not entirely sure, but I think he may have history. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet Winchester number two!”

“Winchester?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“As in John Winchester?” Dean cleared his throat.

“Yup.” Castiel nodded, not saying another word. Everyone in Sioux Falls knew about John Winchester. After his wife died, John went, to be kind, batshit crazy. He took his kids out on the road for years, ‘hunting things’, trying to find what killed his wife (a house fire) when in reality he would lock them in a hotel room and go on a murder spree. Some kids used to say that he would come home to put the bodies in the Winchester house, and Castiel was once dared to knock on the front door, which he of course chickened out on. Castiel had been in his freshman year of high school when John was caught, the kids going to someone named Bob, John being locked away. Permanently. He had read that the youngest was completely fine, but that the oldest had been sent to some kind of mental hospital for a year. Luckily, they had both gotten some kind of education, and the older one had only been a year behind.

The older one had been named Dean.

Castiel had never heard of a third child, and thinking back to Dean mentioning two younger brothers, Castiel wondered if there had been a secret baby, maybe a twin to the youngest, or perhaps the mother hadn’t, in fact, died when the youngest was six months, but later, when a third had been born. Who knew. Castiel hadn’t thought about John Winchester in ten years, but the information was still trapped in his mind.

Castiel realized he had gone silent, and Dean cleared his throat.

“My apologies, I was lost in thought.”

“No problem, man. Look, I’d rather not get into details about that shit, especially with someone who I just met an hour ago.”

“I completely understand. Please forgive my rudeness in the form of that silence.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine.”

“I should most likely get dressed for work. Who knows- maybe I’ll meet one of your siblings today.”

“Don’t forget- Sam Winchester. He’s a mouthy little shit. Needs a goddam haircut,” Dean said with a chuckle, standing. He patted his pocket, then moved his hand to his forehead with a moan. “I fucking left my car at the bar.”

“Speaking of the bar, what exactly happened to you last night?” Castiel asked, wondering why he had waited so long to ask. That brought a small smile to Dean’s lips.

“I, uh, lost a bet with a friend. Ended up drinking a _lot_ , and I stumbled over to Benny’s because he was closest. But, uh, your houses look awful similar.” Castiel nodded.

“What the bet?” he asked. Dean snickered.

“That’s a story for another time.”

“I really need to get ready, Dean,” Castiel mumbled, looking at the clock again and setting his now empty mug into the sink.

“Do you think I could hitch a ride? I can, I don’t know, tuck and roll out of the car on the way past the bar, then just hightail it to work.” Castiel cracked a grin.

“Neither tucking nor rolling will be necessary. If it’s the bar I’m thinking of-”

“The Roadhouse.”

“Yes, that’s it. It’s right on my way. That’s a five minute drive, how long did it take you to get here?”

“Like, two hours.”

“Impressive. Now, can I trust your crazy College ass to wait patiently while I get dressed?” Dean snorted.

“I’ll be fine, _Mr._ \- wait. I don’t know your last name.”

“Novak.”

“ _Mr. Novak_.” Castiel still held a smile on his lips as he left the kitchen, shrugging off his shirt as he headed up the stairs. To save time, he showered at night, sometimes in the morning again, but not today. Castiel took off his sleep pants and threw on what he hoped was a clean pair of boxers along with his suit pants, dress shirt, jacket and tie. He growled angrily at himself for never being able to tie it right, but gave up, pulling on his socks and shoes and leaving his room. He found Dean on the couch, humming some sort or rock song. It sounded familiar.

“Metallica?” Castiel asked, startling the younger man. Dean stood, and Castiel couldn’t help but be reminded of their first greeting less than two hours ago. It was like a lifetime, and Castiel was already wondering how much Dean would impact his life from here on out.

“You like?” Dean asked, moving towards Castiel and frowning at his tie.

“No, my brother does.”

“Gabriel?”

“Um, no.” Castiel left it at that and Dean didn’t bother asking anything further.

“This knot is shit, man.”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Want me to take care of it?” Castiel cocked an eyebrow.

“You can tie a tie?”

“Yeah, I’m stupid, not an idiot. Wait. Ignore that. Here, let me.” Dean reached over to Castiel’s throat, untying the poorly done up tie and fixing it to his liking.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, grabbing his keys and motioning for Dean to follow him. Castiel was leaving right on time. Luckily, the school started at eight thirty and it was only twenty to eight, with a ten minute drive ahead of him. Dean followed Castiel out to the car, what Gabriel called a “Piece ‘o shit Honda”, and dropped himself into the passenger seat. Castiel got into the driver’s side, starting it up and moving them down the drive. Dean leafed through Castiel’s CD’s.

“Man, you got a shit collection.” Castiel shifted in his seat.

“I enjoy classical, is that a problem?” Dean shook his head.

“That brother of yours didn’t do a very good job of influencing your music taste!” Castiel stiffened.

“I would rather not discuss him.” Dean quieted, and the rest of the drive was in silence. Castiel drank in Dean’s scent as they drove. He, of course, smelled dominantly of alcohol, but underneath that he had a scent of leather and… old books, with a hint of motor oil. The smell was enticing, and Castiel had to keep himself from visibly drinking it in. All too soon, it seemed, they were at the bar.

“Well, thanks for the ride, Cas. And, uh, sorry for the B and E. My bad on that part.” Castiel chuckled.

“As I said before; if anyone was going to break into my house, I’m glad it could be you.” Dean smiled, patted him on the arm, and got out of the car. He leaned back in before the door closed.

“Oh, and if you think this is the last you’ll see of me, just remember; I know where you live.” Dean closed the door and jogged over to a sleek black car. Castiel whistled lowly; it was certainly a beauty. Castiel turned the car, pulling out of the lot and driving the extra six minutes to get to Lincoln High. He pulled into an empty parking space, grabbing his work bag from the backseat, closing the door and stepping onto the sidewalk, slamming right into a young student.

“ _Crap_ ,” the young man mumbled, dropping a textbook, notes spilling from it. Castiel crouched down at the same time he did, gathering papers.

“Sorry, bud, I didn’t see you,” Castiel apologized, glancing up at him, as he stood, passing the papers he had in his hands. The younger man didn’t want to make eye contact.

“No problem,” was all he said as he hurried along. A girl with bright blond hair was waving at him, and he ran to catch up to her and a few other people. Castiel turned, going to the office to pick up his class key for the day. Of course the room was on the third floor. Castiel made his way through the slowly crowding halls, managing to make it to the class with another twenty minutes before it began. He unlocked the door, sliding in and flicking on the lights, taking a deep breath, determined to treasure these few sweet moments alone. Castiel sat down, pulling out the notes on the class. Relatively easy. A quick handout on the Nanking massacre, followed by some notes to be written on the board, and if they were finished early they could begin some kind of film. Castiel settled into the chair, gathering the papers he would need. He jumped when there was a knock on the door. Castiel stood, opening it to find the same shaggy haired brunette he had just run into outside.

“Can I help you?” Castiel asked, a slightly forced smile on his face. The boy seemed surprised to him there.

“Is Mr. Hill out sick today?” the boy asked. Castiel noticed that it was lower than he would have expected. Also that the boy Castiel’s height; tall for his age. And he didn’t look like he was done growing yet.

“Yes, I’m your substitute, Mr. Novak. Pleased to meet you, Mr…?”

“Sam,” the boy said, extending an arm after juggling his books to one hand. “Sam Winchester.” Castiel couldn’t help the smile that was widening on his face. He accepted the hand.

“Come on in, Sam. What can I do for you?” Castiel asked, moving to sit on the edge of his desk.

“Um, I don’t mean to be a bother. I just have a unit test in another class today, and, well, the library isn’t exactly quiet in this school,” Sam commented. Castiel nodded.

“Take a seat. Class begins in about fifteen minutes, so I hope that this can help you out.” Sam nodded, taking a seat right up front. Castiel leafed through instructions for further classes, but continued to glance at the Winchester, trying to find similarities between him and Dean. “Sam?” The boy looked up from his book. An eleventh grade Biology textbook, Castiel noticed. “Do you happen to have a brother named Dean?”

“Yeah, why?” Sam asked.

“No reason. I met him earlier, and he mentioned you.” Sam closed the book.

“He mentioned me?” Sam asked, seeming genuinely interested in Castiel’s response.

“Yes, he speaks very highly of you.” Sam beamed.

“How do you know him?” Sam asked.

“You’ll have to let him answer that,” Castiel responded carefully.

“Oh, so you’re one of _those_ friends,” Sam said.

“I’m unsure of what you mean.”

“Uh, nothing.” Castiel was suddenly concerned, confused and curious all at once. They sat in silence, the bell ringing shrilly. Castiel stood from the desk, writing his name in chalk on the board and awaiting students to flood in. He noticed that, even after the last few kids ran in from final bell, no one sat beside Sam in the front, all other seats filled. He felt a small bit of guilt over that as they all stood for the national anthem and Castiel later did roll call.

Sam was the best behaved in the class.


	3. Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel awakens to find someone he most definitely knows at his window. But why is Dean back again? And why is there blood dripping down his arm?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I suck at updates, but I do have a reason this time, since my arm's in a brace and typing is a bitch. That, and I'm really into typing up my other AU, which I will shamelessly promote just below this line:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1436311/chapters/3020473
> 
> Thank you to those who are continuing to offer support, and thank you for waiting so long for such a short update.

“Wait, that guy, Dean, he’s a _Winchester_?” Gabriel asked, mouth agape and food spilling from his lips. Castiel scrunched his eyebrows up at that the repulsing display, handing his brother a napkin with two fingers.

“Yes, and if he ever returns here, I expect you treat him with the utmost respect,” Castiel insisted, spinning his spaghetti on his fork and trying to eat it without lathering himself in sauce.

“I’ll be giving that punk as much respect as he shits out,” Gabriel scoffed. Castiel raised an eyebrow. “ _But_ , I won’t bring up Psycho Dad from hell. Scout’s honour.”

“You were never in the Scout’s,” Castiel grumbled.

“Uh, yeah I was! You were one, and I lasted a whole week before they kicked me out. It was actually a track record for me. Hell, dad-” Gabriel stopped. Castiel tensed, hating that his presence made Gabriel wish to not speak freely of their father. “Fuck, sorry man; that was totally my bad.”

“You do not have to limit your speech of our father around me, Gabriel,” Castiel told him, eating another forkful of food.

“Yeah, but dad’s a jackass, and we don’t need to talk about him. Or the others,” Gabriel replied, standing and putting his plate in the sink. Castiel’s appetite was gone, and he threw out the remainder of his spaghetti, shuffling towards the living room with Gabriel behind him. Castiel sat heavily on the couch, Gabriel plopping down beside him and swiping the remote out of his brother’s hand.

“Hey!” Castiel muttered.

“Ah! My house, my remote, my silent brother!” Gabriel retorted. Castiel breathed profanities under his breath, but allowed Gabriel to keep the device. He switched from channel to channel, Dr. Sexy MD popping up. They watched the last ten minutes, then some Japanese game show called ‘Nutcracker’ came on, which was pretty entertaining, because it was just these two white guys who didn’t speak a lick of Japanese getting sacked in the balls for half an hour. Castiel found himself drifting off while Gabriel flipped through more channels.

“Wait, what was that?” Castiel asked. Gabriel flipped it back.

“Just some shitty show called ‘Supernatural’. It was really good about six years ago, when it was actually scary, but now it’s more like ‘Two and a Half Men’ and has gone to shit. I mean, who the fuck puts a laugh track in a drama?” Castiel shrugged, and Gabriel changed the channel again, an old Knight Rider episode popping up, but there was only a few seconds before some terrible cop show was on. Castiel was tired. He had had a long as hell day, and he wanted to just get some sleep, but bed was so far away, and the couch was comfortable…

He fell asleep with his head on Gabriel’s shoulder, mouth open.

………..

The week passed uneventfully. Castiel was not asked back to Lincoln, and did not get a chance to meet the younger Winchester once more. Dean hadn’t shown up in that time, and for some odd reason, it saddened Castiel. He had come to like the man in their two encounters, and was hoping for… Well, what he was hoping for was almost definitely out of the question, so he settled for a friendship. It was a Friday evening, and Castiel was already passed out on the couch, full suit on. Before he had fallen asleep, Gabriel had said something about a club or strippers and left, Castiel choosing to settle down on the couch, promptly falling asleep at six in the evening. He was obviously the life of the party.

God knows how much later, Castiel was awoken by a tapping at the window. Well, tapping seems like the wrong word; loud banging is more appropriate. Groaning, Castiel rolled, expecting to land on the other side of the bed, but ending up on the floor with a _thud_ and a TV remote hitting him right in the crotch.

“Oh for _fuck’s_ sake,” Castiel hissed, hands reaching down to press against his suit pants. “Jesus Christ!” Castiel rolled onto his back with a groan, eyes squeezed shut. The banging continued. He stood, one hand being used to drag his body from the floor, and the other hand still stuck at his crotch. He managed to get to his full height, eyes zeroing in past the blackened TV screen and at the window. He managed to move around the coffee table, getting to the window and unlocking it, someone else’s arm opening it and their body flying through, thudding to the ground before hopping up and closing the window, switching the lock back in place. A calloused hand gripped Castiel’s arm, dragging him back down to the ground and directly under the window.

“What the _fuck_?” he demanded, eyes searching in the dark. A light was on in the kitchen, and it cast just enough glow to illuminate the bright green eyes before him. “Dean? Is that you? Why are you here?”

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t wake your brother, and don’t stand up,” he hissed through his teeth. Annoyed, Castiel obeyed, clamping his teeth together and shuffling slightly away from Dean, who was panting and covered in sweat. He heard voices outside the window, yelling and hooting, young and boisterous. He then heard a ‘Shut the fuck up you little twats!’ from across the street, most likely his neighbor, Crowley, who hated children more than anyone in the town. The voices died down before disappearing, and Dean finally stood, dragging Castiel with him.

“Do you mind explaining what exactly that was?” Castiel demanded, putting on what Gabriel called his ‘Pissed off teacher’ look.

“Got into a fight, Benny wasn’t home, got chased here in the car, ditched it in an empty lot,” Dean gasped, still trying to catch his breath. Castiel zeroed in on his arm, which was covered in blood.

“Come with me,” Castiel sighed, moving away from the younger man and going to the kitchen, wincing at the pain that was still pinging in his dick. “Fucking remotes,” he grumbled. Dean followed Castiel from the living room, sitting down and stripping off his blood-soaked shirt as Castiel dug around in the cupboards. When Castiel turned around, he had gauze and paper towels in his hands. A gasp escaped his throat. Dean was muscular, abs evident on his torso and arms thick with strength. His body was also covered in scars. Much too many scars for a man of twenty. Dean averted Castiel’s gaze as the other man pulled a chair out to sit in front of Dean, eyes trying to focus on the currently bleeding wound and not the ones that bled once upon a time.

“I’m guessing that you know too much about my past for me to tell you that I got these in the shop,” Dean muttered, still focused on the floor, barely even flinching when Castiel began dabbing at the blood on his arm.

“It’s none of my business,” Castiel replied, looking up at Dean before refocusing on cleaning.

“But you still want to know. Everyone wants to know.”

“Just because I am curious does not make me worthy of your trust. Dean, even if someone allows you into their home and begins to bandage you up of their own accord, it does not mean that they must ask you questions about a topic you are not comfortable discussing. Even if they see your body, perhaps stare longer than necessary, obviously curious, you have every right to not tell them a single fact about yourself. It is your decision, and you can tell the rest of the world to fuck off,” Castiel ranted, getting carried away. Dean cocked an eyebrow, finally meeting the blue orbs before him.

“I’m guessing that was less to do with me and more to do with a certain someone in the room,” Dean retorted, shifting his shoulder in its socket and causing Castiel to scrape too hard at some dried blood. Again, there was barely a reaction from Dean.

“My apologies. I tend to get carried away when there is someone willing to listen. I suppose it’s why I’m a teacher,” Castiel chuckled.

“Cas?” The older man looked up. “Can I completely ignore that little speech and ask you what it was about?” Castiel blew out a breath, placing a hand on the back of his neck.

“To be honest, I would prefer not to discuss, but because I am a curious man, I would like to make a deal.”

“Shoot.”

“I ask you a question, you answer it, then you ask me a question, I answer it. A trading of information.” Dean nodded slowly. “Would you like to begin?” Castiel looked down again, wrapping Dean’s arm in a bandage.

“Yeah, I’ll repeat myself: what was that rant about?”

“Do you remember that morning earlier in the week, when I mentioned a brother and his music?” Dean nodded. “Well, his name was Luci, and when I was young, he would play that genre very loudly, always angering my father. Let’s just say he fucked up royally, and my father kicked him out. I haven’t seen him in about eighteen years now. Gabriel became my closest sibling, and I confided with him a secret when I entered high school. Unfortunately, my brother Michael overheard, and he told my father, both them and Raphael saying it was blasphemy. I told them that this is why Luci left, because they treat those who are different as scum. They demanded to hear the secret from me, and not from Michael, but I refused to confirm nor deny it. My father was livid, and for the four years until my graduation, we lived in tense circumstances. Luckily, I was a sales associate at a local gas station, so I was gone a lot. When I turned eighteen, I admitted to my father that I was…” Castiel stopped, closing his eyes. Dean put a hand on his shoulder, sympathy on his face. “I admitted I was… gay, to my father, and he threw me out of the house. I moved in with Gabriel, here, and he helped me get through school. I hope that is an adequate response to your question.” Dean was quiet for a long time. His arm was bandaged and he played with the material, eyes focused on the floor.

“Your turn,” he mumbled.

“How did you get that cut?” Dean’s eyes snapped up.

“That’s your question?”

“Yes.”

“Not, ‘How’d you get those scars?’ or ‘Did your father really kill all those people?’ or ‘Who’s the third brother?’ None of those?” Castiel shook his head.

“You obviously aren’t ready to discuss them, much less with a man you met a mere week ago.”

“Yet in the same position you can tell me something incredibly private.”

“It is not very private anymore, Dean. It has been six years since the incident, and I have come to peace with my sexuality. You, on the other hand, do not seem ready to openly discuss such a painful experience,” Castiel told him softly. Dean hung his head, a chuckle in his throat.

“Painful is most definitely not the right word.”

“I apologize-”

“Well stop it! I don’t need pity, Cas, I just need someone to understand… It- it fucked me up real bad. Real bad. But it doesn’t… it doesn’t mean that I’m fragile, or not ready to tell people how fucked that was.”

“I’m not saying that. It’s just that I may not be the best choice.” Dean nodded.

“Yeah, I get it.”

“So. The cut on your arm.”

“Oh. Yeah, this guy… I- I can’t…” Dean faltered, looking at the floor. Castiel rested a hand on his shoulder, concern etched into his features.

“What is it?” Dean blew out a breath.

“The reason that I was here last time was because I lost a bet. The bet was… if I couldn’t pick up this chick, I had to make out with this guy, Alistair, who’s had… feelings for me, for years.” Dean stopped, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Castiel didn’t even notice that he was gently stroking Dean’s arm, but didn’t discontinue the movement. “Let’s just say that I lost. And that I got really shitfaced. And the reason I got this cut was because when I went back, Alistair, he was at the bar. And so were some friends of his. They tried to… take me to the back, but Ellen, fucking Ellen, brings out a shotgun, she’s fucking badass. They scatter, and I stayed there, but… I had to leave. And then they found me, pulled a knife, sliced my arm, I ran, got in the car…” He stopped, and Castiel could piece the rest of the story together on his own.

“Those men are monsters. You deserve better.” Dean barked a humourless laugh.

“As if. That’s exactly what I deserve.” Castiel frowned.

“Why do you think that?”

“Man, look how fucked up my life is. Do you really think things can get much better?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you the optimistic one.” Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, trying to decide on what action to take.

“I have not known you for long, Dean. But in this time, I can assure you, you deserve greatness.” Dean looked at his feet. Castiel reached forwards, gently sliding his hand along Dean’s jaw. Looking up, green met blue as Castiel moved his face closer to Dean’s, waiting for him to snap away and pull back. When he didn’t, Castiel ghosted his lips over Dean’s, eyes shut as he moved a hand to the back of Dean’s neck. Dean moved himself forwards, smashing his lips into Castiel’s and startling the man, who pulled back with a loud smacking sound. Dean blushed, looking away. A grin slid across Castiel’s face as he pulled Dean back towards himself, placing another kiss on the man’s lips, smiling into it.

“I don’t know if this is appropriate,” Dean breathed as he moved his hands to Castiel’s hair.

“You actually care about appropriate?” Castiel asked, moving from his chair and tipping Dean’s back against the wall, looming over him, his tie dipping down and a wicked grin on his face.

“Not currently, no,” Dean laughed, pulling Castiel back towards himself.


	4. A hospital is no place for romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel are in the kitchen when Dean receives a phone call from Sam, causing a chain of events that land both Dean and his brother in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG AUTHOR NOTE. Please read warnings, but the rest in unimportant.
> 
> !WARNING!  
> Attempted suicide, wrist cutting, self harm, harm towards major characters, child abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, mention of rape, stabbing, descriptions of blood, admission to mental wards, severe psychological damage.
> 
> Let me just say that this isn't where I wanted this to go. I had writer's block on this fic for a long ass time, and when it finally faded, I was of course left with this fucking chapter. This chapter IS VERY FAR FROM HAPPY. VERY, VERY FAR. THERE'S LIKE TWO PARAGRAPHS OF HAPPY AND THAT'S IT. So I'm real sorry about that, to anyone actually had hope in their hearts that I could only write fluff.
> 
> This will end happily, I promise! This was supposed to be the last chapter, and then my brain decided to go all psycho killer warped, and spat this chapter out, so now there will be three, possibly four more, one being an epilogue. I hope you guys don't hate me too much after this one!
> 
> As a side note, I was just wondering to myself how the fuck I went from an innocent Tumblr prompt to this. Jesus Christ, it was only meant to be like two chapters.

Dean stood from his chair, wrapping his arms around Castiel and slamming him back into the wall. He pressed their bodies together, only Castiel’s jacket and shirt stopping them from being flesh on flesh. Dean bit at Castiel’s lip, making the man moan as he deepened the kiss, hands clutching desperately at Castiel’s hair, while Castiel scraped his fingers down Dean’s back. He pushed Dean away, eyes raking up and down his naked torso hungrily before advancing on him again, slamming him against the kitchen counter.

_I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE!_

“You have got to _fucking_ kidding me,” Dean moaned in between kisses. He ignored the music coming from his pocket until it stopped, never discontinuing his vicious attack on Castiel’s mouth, fingers finally releasing all of the buttons from his shirt, hands running up and down Castiel’s chest, reaching around to grip his back, Castiel fumbling with Dean’s belt buckle. Dean sucked in a breath as Castiel ripped his pants down, grazing his hips up against Dean’s beginning to thrust into him. Dean clutched the counter, head flying back. “Holy _fuck_.” Dean reached down, unbuckling Castiel’s own belt, then moving his hands to his suit pants, pulling both them and his boxers away from his waist, crying out when Castiel slammed his hips against Dean’s, cutting the cry off with his own mouth, moving his hands to grip at Dean’s bare back.

_I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE!_

“Someone is going to die,” Dean growled, reaching a hand into his pocket and ripping out his phone, answering it without checking the caller ID. “Whoever the fuck this is, you better be dead or dying, because I swear to Christ-” Dean stopped, face going slack. Castiel stepped back, head tilting in confusion. “Sammy, Sammy, please, calm down, Sammy, it’s okay. Hey, hey, no, you’re fine, okay? Sammy, I need you to breathe. No! Sam, _don’t_ say that! Sam? Sam, what- _NO! SAMUEL WINCHESTER, YOU-!_ ” Dean clicked off the phone. Castiel hurriedly pulled his pants up during the call, buckling them at last.

“Dean?” Ignoring him, he opened it up again and furiously typed at the keyboard. Castiel approached with his hand outstretched, lightly touching Dean’s shaking arm.

“This is Dean Winchester, I need police and an ambulance sent to 857 Roselyn Drive, please, my brother needs help. Samuel Winchester. Thank you, thank you so much, I need to go, I need to get there.” Dean hung up, looking at Castiel with nothing short of sheer terror in his eyes. “I need to go, I need to help Sammy, I need to go.” Dean ripped away, but Castiel grabbed his arm.

“You can’t drive, Dean, you can’t.”

“ _Let me go! I need to get Sammy!_ ”

“DEAN! Stop! I’ll take you, let’s go!”

“The car is a block up the street.”

“We can take my car.” Dean shook his head.

“No, no, it’s faster, come on, _come on_!” Dean grabbed his arm this time, not bothering with his shirt, tearing out of the house and down front stoop, somehow managing to deal with his belt, sprinting up the street with Castiel on his heels. Dean had parked the car in the place where Missouri Mosely’s house had burned down three months ago, just behind the ruins. Dean practically whipped the keys at Castiel, and he dropped them, scrambling to find them on the ground while Dean rushed towards the black vehicle. Castiel finally straightened up and stopped, mouth wrenched open in horror.

“ _NO!_ ” he screamed, stumbling forwards. Dean was standing with his mouth hanging open, hands waving uselessly before his bare torso, blood slowly oozing from below a knife. Castiel saw a dark figure running away, the laughter echoing back to him. Dean’s knees began to buckle and Castiel flew forwards, catching him before he hit the ground. “Dean? Hey, hey, it’s fine, you’re fine, okay? We’ll get you to the hospital, you’ll be fine, it’ll be just fine, everything’s okay, do you hear me? Dean? Dean?” Castiel shook his shoulders, Dean’s eyes rolling back in his head and his breathing shallow. Something clicked in Castiel’s brain, and every shred of medical knowledge he had picked up over the years flew into his brain. Castiel, while holding Dean in his lap, ripping off his jacket, throwing it to the side, and pulled off his shirt, taking it and wrapping it around the outside of the knife and his torso, being incredibly careful as to not jostle or remove the blade. He checked Dean’s breathing, and the man’s eyes flashed open, his mouth wrenched in an ‘O’ of pain.

“Sam, help,” Dean choked.

“He’s not here, it’s okay,” Castiel breathed. Dean shook his head.

“No, help Sam,” Dean commanded.

“Dean, I’m going to help you up,” Castiel said slowly. Dean grabbed onto Castiel’s arms, and, somehow, the two managed to make it to their feet, Dean nearly biting off his lower lip to keep the gut wrenching screams inside of his mouth. Castiel half carried him to the back of the car, swiping his suit jacket from the ground and sliding Dean into the backseat on his back, using the jacket as a pillow. Dean was too long to fit all the way in and ended up with his knees scrunched up against the door. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were wide.

“Sammy, he said, he said it was gone. He said, he said he was… he was done. Sammy lied,” Dean gasped. As Castiel began to leave the back of the car to get them to the hospital, Dean grabbed his arm, nails digging into the skin. “Cas,” he choked, eyes welling, “Cas he _lied_ , he _lied_ to me.”

“Dean, I need to take care of _you_ right now.” Dean closed his eyes, falling back against the makeshift pillow, chest heaving as he let out cries of pain. Castiel’s shirt was now soaked in blood; the knife was lodged in his kidney, and even though most of the blood was contained by it, some was still spilling. Castiel got into the driver’s seat and stuck the key in the ignition, flooring it all the way to the hospital.

They arrived in a record time of fifteen minutes, Dean’s face pale and Castiel wiping tears he hadn’t known he was shedding from his own. He practically crashed into an ambulance as he swerved in front of the emergency room door.

“Sir! Sir, you can’t just-” a nurse began, but Castiel cut her short.

“ _Help him_!” he screeched, pointing to the car where Dean was. The nurse flew into action, running inside and demanding a gurney, coming out with another nurse and a doctor. They carefully maneuvered Dean out of the back of the Impala, and he was yelling profanities every time they touched him. Finally, he was on the gurney, the nurses rushing his inside and inspecting the wound. Castiel was about to chase after them when he saw that they were loading the second Winchester out of the back of an ambulance. Castiel’s breath was caught in his throat. Sam was straining against the people on either side of him, and one EMT was firmly holding bandages to his bleeding wrists.

“Sam?” he gasped, stumbling towards him.

“Sir, step back,” one EMT told him gravely.

“No, no, that’s Sam Winchester, I know him, please,” Castiel begged, but a nurse stepped up and began to herd him away.

“Sir, he needs to get stitched up, please step back. Castiel deflated, sinking to his knees as he saw Dean’s gurney disappear and Sam’s enter the hospital. “Is this your car?” Castiel nodded numbly, unable to move. “I need you to clear it of the emergency entrance.”

“I can’t,” he moaned, head in his hands. She pursed her lips.

“Nancy!” she yelled, and Castiel saw a young woman with ‘Volunteer’ clipped to her chest come flitting outside. “I need you to park this car anywhere but here.” She looked down at Castiel, who was furiously wiping tears from him face, and nodded, moving to get into the front seat and start the engine.

“Thank fuck my dad likes standards,” Castiel heard her mutter from the passenger window. The nurse crouched down next to him.

“Okay, let’s get you inside,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder and making him stand up gently. When Castiel turned, there was a young boy with blond hair being walked in by an EMT.

“Who is that?” Castiel asked, pointing at the boy.

“I’m not sure, honey. Come on, let’s get you in.” Castiel nodded, and as they walked by, he stopped, looking the young boy up and down.

“Could you find out? Please?” Castiel asked. He could feel his heart slamming in his chest, and the adrenaline starting to fade from his veins. The nurse sighed and walked over to the man.

“Gordy, I got this. You get back out there,” she said, clapping the man on the shoulder. She kneeled down to the boy, who was rubbing his eyes tiredly and clad in batman pyjama pants, the tops of them Spiderman, as if he couldn’t decide which he liked best. “Hey, sweetie, what’s your name?”

“Adam,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Why are you here, baby?” she asked.

“Sammy’s hurt,” he told her.

“Who’s Sammy?”

“He likes Sam, only me and Dean call him Sammy. He’s my brother,” Adam informed her.

“Do you know that man?” she asked, pointing at Castiel. Adam shook his head. “Where’s your mom, kiddo? Or your dad?”

“My mom died when I was born,” he told her, a yawn interrupting his sentence. “I lived with the Bobby until Dean got me.”

“When did Dean get you?”

“When he got Sam. Two years ago. Bobby wanted me to stay, but he let Dean take us.” Castiel’s heart clenched. He could hear the conversation from just six feet away, and he somehow ended up back on the floor, gasping breaths taking over him. The nurse was at his side, rubbing circles into his back.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. This is your friend’s brother.”

“I know,” he hissed. “I heard.” She nodded.

“I’m going to take you both to the waiting room. The police should be here soon,” she told him. When he stood, he found himself to be using the nurse as a primary source to stand against. “What’s your name?”

“Castiel Novak.”

“Well, Castiel, I’m Meg. Adam? This is Castiel. Your brother’s friend. You’re going to sit with him for a while, okay?” Meg told him. Adam nodded, moving to stand beside the two, looking Castiel up and down.

“Are you okay?” Adam asked. Castiel smiled weakly.

“Yeah, kiddo, I’ll be fine.” Meg helped him down the halls to the surgery waiting room. Once he was seated, Adam hopped up beside him, wrapping his arms around his knees. He yawned again. Meg informed him she had patients to check on, but would be back soon. Castiel ran a hand through his hair. He checked the time. It was one am, officially Saturday November second. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

“Castiel?”

“Hm?” he said, turning to Adam.

“Where’s Dean?” The question felt like a punch to the gut.

“Dean got hurt. He’s in surgery.” Castiel saw tears welling in the boy’s eyes.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Adam asked, voice wavering. Castiel felt a lump form in his throat.

“I hope so, Adam. Hey, can you tell me what happened with Sam?” Castiel asked quietly. Adam averted his eyes, but soon faced Castiel again.

“He, um, he was yelling at Dean on the phone. He was really mad, and then it was quiet. I went back to sleep. There was a man in my room then, telling me to get up, and there were sirens. Sam was bleeding an awful lot. Then I rode here in the ambulance.” Castiel was silent. He reached over and began stroking Adam’s hair. Adam leaned into Castiel’s side, which Castiel only just realized was still completely bare, tears dripping onto the skin. He wrapped his small arms around Castiel and was soon asleep. Meg came by, and dashed to get two blankets. One she wrapped around Adam and the other she gave Castiel as a makeshift shirt. He thanked her, and on her way out, he saw her point a police officer in his direction. He walked over with a grim look on his face.

“Dean Winchester…’s friend?” the officer asked. Castiel nodded. “Can we speak somewhere private?”

“I have a nine year old asleep on me, officer. Here would be lovely,” Castiel told him tiredly, keeping one arm wrapped around Adam. The officer then nodded, taking a seat beside Castiel and removing his hat.

“I’m Officer Turner, but you can call me Rufus. I know the Winchesters real well, good friends with Bobby Singer. Did anyone call him?” Castiel shook his head. “I’ll ring him when we’re done. So. We got Sam in for attempted suicide, and Dean in for a stabbing?”

“Yes sir,” Castiel choked out, feeling like a great weight was just placed on his shoulders at the reality of Rufus’s words.

“Son, please, can you tell me what happened?”

“Uh, Dean and I… Look. Dean’s going to be pissed, but if you want the whole story… Dean’s gay.” Rufus chuckled.

“I know. That boy is pretty shitty at keeping secrets.” Castiel was quiet.

“We were in my kitchen, and his phone rang.”

“Why were you in the kitchen?” Rufus asked, pulling out a notepad.

“Sorry, but if you’re close to the victim, don’t they need to send someone else?”

“Not at nearly one am when I happen to be good friends with the chief of police. Now go on.”

“Well, see, I met Dean last week. He broke into my house.” Rufus raised an eyebrow. “It was an accident, he had been drinking and thought it was the neighbour’s house. It’s fine. Anyways, he came by tonight and he was being chased, so I let him in.”

“Why was he being chased?”

“Uh. He lost a bet, last week, and… things happened. And the guy he lost to, he found him tonight, and Dean got cut and he ran here. So I let him in, and I patched up his arm.”

“Who was this man?”

“He said Azazel and Alistair.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“We were in the kitchen, and Sam called.” Castiel tightened his arm around Adam and Rufus glanced down at the kid with a frown. “I don’t know what he said, but Dean was hysterical, and he called the cops, sent them to the house. When, uh, when he was being chased, he ditched the car. We got it, and I- I guess, I guess the guys who were chasing him, they found it, and someone stayed.” Castiel’s voice cracked, and a wave of exhaustion hit him as he sunk into his chair, pressing a palm against his eyes, sniffing and trying to stop the flow of tears. “I- I looked up, and he was just standing there, looking at this knife. He didn’t know what to do. The guy ran, and, and I tried to patch Dean up. He kept saying Sam had lied, over and over, and I don’t know _why_. And we got here, and I found him.” Castiel nodded towards Adam. “I don’t know who did this, but Dean does, so he has to wake up, he has to be fine.”

“Hey, it’s okay, son. Thank you for telling me. I need to call Bobby Singer down here to take care of this boy, and I need to speak with the EMTs, but I’ll check on you later, all right?” Castiel nodded numbly and Rufus strode off, phone to his ear, speaking in a calm and quiet tone to whoever was on the other line. Castiel felt his lids become heavy, and soon the arm draped around Adam went slack.

Castiel had only fallen unconscious for a few moments, and when he opened his eyes, there was a doctor in front of him, lowering a mask and ringing her hands together. He snapped up, adjusting his blanket and jostling Adam, but the young boy just curled up into a ball on the seat.

“Castiel Novak?” she asked, looking at him with concern.

“Yes, yes, that’s me. Is Dean all right? Is he awake? What time is it? How long has been under?” Castiel demanded very quickly, rising to his feet and wrapping the blanket around himself.

“Sir, you may want to take a seat.” That hit Castiel like a son of bricks.

*

_“Sir, you may want to take a seat.”_

_“Dad?” Castiel asked, peaking out from behind Raphael’s arm._

_“Not now, Castiel, and I’m not taking a damn seat, woman! Where’s my wife, where’s my baby?” Castiel’s father demanded. The woman put a hand on his father’s shoulder but he shook it off violently._

_“Come on, Cassie, we should go,” Raphael told him, and Castiel knew he was trying not to cry. He didn’t understand then what was going on. Lucifer led a crying Gabriel away, while Raphael was dragging a baffled Castiel, who had no idea then why his father had collapsed on the ground of the waiting room outside of the maternity ward._

_It would be a week before he fully realized that his mother had died giving birth to his sister, Anael._

*

Castiel shot back to the present, and with a trembling lip, he said, “I would prefer to stand, thank you.”

“He’s still in surgery, but there have been… complications. His kidney has not been fully punctured, but it was cut deeply enough that the bleeding has become internal, and the estimated time for the surgery has been extended. We’re doing all we can, and it looks like the kidney is repairable, so there will be no need to remove it.” Relief flooded through Castiel, and he sunk into the chair, hysterical sobs escaping his throat, tears of happiness flooding from his eyes.

“Thank you, thank you,” he told her.

“We think he’ll be making a speedy recovery. But, Mr. Novak, I’m afraid it isn’t all good news.” Castiel stood again, wiping at his eyes and trying to calm his breathing.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“I’m also here to tell you of the other Mr. Winchester in our care. He has attempted suicide, and will be on lock down with no visitors for a protocol time of thirty six hours. After that, family may visit, but he will need to be in our care for another thirty six hours after that for his injuries, and later moved to our mental ward to be assessed. He is currently on blood transfusions due to the loss of fluids he suffered, and is unconscious for the time being. We are unsure as to when he can be released in the foreseeable future, as he is considered a great danger to himself.” Castiel sat down once more, slowly. He looked at Adam and stroked some loose locks of hair from his face.

“But Sam will be okay?” he asked. “Physically, I mean.”

“There was scarring damage to the veins, and it may cause his hands to grow numb faster than most. He will be in excruciating pain from those cuts, and he has severe mental trauma, Mr. Novak. Otherwise, he is and will be okay, but he really needs a psychiatrist for these issues.” Castiel nodded slowly.

“Thank you. So much, really.”

“I’ll be out to update you on the elder Mr. Winchester in an hour, and the surgery should be going on for another two,” she said, turning on her heel and walking away. Castiel sank into the chair, burying his face in his hands. He sat like that for a very long time, feeling sleep pulling at his mind, and drifting in and out of consciousness. Soon, he heard thundering footsteps, and looked up to see a large man with a beard scanning the room before his eyes dropped to Adam. He hurried over, anger and fear and confusion all flashing in his expressions.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man growled at Castiel. He stood, again remembering the blanket too late and pulling it onto his shoulders.

“I’m Castiel Novak, I’m a… friend of Dean’s, and I was Sam’s substitute teacher last week.”

“The kid, is he okay?” the man asked, gesturing towards Adam.

“Yes, he’s fine. He… he saw Sam, but I think he’ll be okay.”

“Saw Sam?”

“Who are you?”

“You have the audacity to-”

“I have the intelligence to ask a complete stranger his relations to my two friends who are currently hospitalized before I reveal to him emotional and physical medical history that could possibly be damaging to them when in the wrong hands,” Castiel retorted coldly. The man looked surprised.

“Bobby Singer,” he said gruffly. “Guardian of these boys, before Dean had that title when he was old enough.” Castiel nodded.

“Adam saw Sam with his wrists slit when they were removing him from the house,” Castiel informed Bobby through clenched teeth. Bobby turned, sitting down in a chair and taking off his dirty baseball cap.

“Jesus Christ. I knew the boy had problems, but not this bad,” Bobby muttered.

“Problems? What problems?” Castiel asked. Bobby sighed.

“Look, obviously you mean something to Dean, since he wouldn’t shut the fuck up about you, so I’m going to tell you something. These boys belong to John Winchester.”

“I know that.”

“Okay, that’s half the battle. Mary died in a house fire. John took Dean and Sam and dragged them across the country while he went on a murder spree over his grief for Mary. Every single day, Dean cared for Sam, even though he was only a baby himself. And every time John was around, he would tell Sam it was his fault that Mary died, and that if Sam was never born, Mary would be alive. He blamed Dean too, but mostly Sam. He room his rage out on Dean. Cut the boy up to ribbons, that’s what all those scars are from. When they were finally caught, Dean got help. He was sent to a mental hospital. When he was there, a young girl came forward, she said John Winchester raped her. John never admitted it, but a blood test revealed that he was the father. The mother died in childbirth, and I got Adam, the baby. When Dean was released, I got him too, and I had all three Winchester boys, but Adam got his mother’s last name. She had no family. Anyways, Sam was just little, and they never thought he was actually… affected by anything. Last year, Dean called me up and said Sammy had said he wasn’t swimming at the beaches no more. Dean asked why, and when he didn’t answer, Dean ripped up the sleeves on Sam’s shirt. He’d been cutting. Dean got him to stop, sent him to a shrink. We thought he was done.” Bobby stopped, wiping a tear from his eye and facing the floor. “Castiel, do you know what tomorrow- today is?”

“No,” Castiel responded hoarsely.

“Today is November second. It’s the anniversary of their mother’s death, the day John kidnapped them, and the day that the abuse started. Dean took today off work from the garage. Yesterday, he was out and about, went to a bar to drink his troubles before he had to console Sam today. He left Sam _alone_. And this happened,” Bobby spat.

“Are you blaming this on Dean?” Castiel asked incredulously.

“If Dean had been there-”

“I’m sorry, but after that story, _you_ have the audacity to blame it on Dean? Dean could _die_ right now. He’s in surgery because he was _stabbed_ , and you want to blame his brother’s attempted suicide on him!?”

“He should have been there for Sam!”

“What about Dean? What about _Dean’s_ grief and _Dean’s_ sorrow? Why does Dean being out for a whole four hours make it his fault? He did everything he could to keep Sam safe, you just said yourself that he took today off of work! How _dare_ to blame Dean!?” Castiel yelled. He hadn’t realized how loud his voice was, and he hadn’t realized he was standing, the whole room staring at him. Adam had awoken from his sleep and looked at Castiel with confusion.

“Castiel, I’m sorry. I was out of line,” Bobby said, sounding defeated. “I just… Sam, he’s so vulnerable. I should have been there.”

“Then say that,” Castiel spat. “Say _you_ should have been there, but don’t you dare put this on Dean. It was Dean who called that ambulance, it was Dean who left my house to get there as soon as possible, it was Dean who risked going to the Impala so we would get there faster, and it was Dean who got stabbed trying to reach his brother. So don’t you dare put any of this on him.” Castiel had never seen anyone look as ashamed as Bobby did right now.

“I really am sorry, Castiel, I have a big mouth, and I don’t know how to filter it.” Castiel took a seat, looking at Adam, who was blinking blearily and on the brink of sleep, eyes puffy from tears. He didn’t say another word to Bobby. Meg entered the room again, and when she saw Adam off of Castiel’s side, she disappeared, showing up against with a t shirt.

“Here, take this, it’s from one of our doctors,” she told him, passing him a grey t shirt that red ‘Metallica’ on the chest. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest. One, because he was stealing a shirt, and two, because this looked just like a shirt Lucifer used to own. He thanked Meg and shrugged it on, using his blanket as a pillow for Adam. She disappeared again after a light touch to his arm. It was quiet for a long while. The silence was broken by the same doctor walking back in, pulling her bandana off as she approached, a smile on her face.

“I’m sorry it took a bit longer to get back to you, but Dean is now out of surgery and in the ICU. It’ll be touch and go for tonight, but if he pulls through stable, we can move him to his own room soon. He’s still unconscious from the anesthesia, but he’ll be awaking soon. I can take you up to him if you like,” she said, giving Castiel a warm smile.

“Please,” Bobby said, standing anxiously. Castiel scooped Adam up into his arms carefully, and the doctor led them to the elevator to take them to the ICU. Bobby said he could carry Adam, but Castiel insisted that he was younger and stronger and it would be easier for him to take the boy rather than Bobby, which the old man begrudgingly agreed to. When they reached the room, a nurse told them they could go in one at a time. Castiel let Bobby go first. He was in there for a solid twenty minutes, and Castiel sat, petting Adam’s hair gently. When Bobby came out, he tried to hide his red eyes, but it wasn’t working.

“Damn idjit,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Look, I should take Adam home, give him some normalcy. I’ll come back tomorrow, check on Dean and Sam. Could you… would you stay with him, for tonight?”

“Of course,” Castiel said, standing and carefully placing the gently snoring Adam into Bobby’s arms. Bobby nodded stiffly, and walked away. Castiel finally looked over into Dean’s room. He was hooked up to numerous machines, and his chest was bare besides a sizeable amount of gauze. Castiel walked into the room, taking a chair and putting it beside Dean’s bed, plunking himself into it heavily. He brushed his hand down Dean’s face, and, dammit, he wasn’t going to cry again. He let out a puff of air, looking Dean up and down.

“Well, this was a great first date,” Castiel muttered. “Jesus Christ, just last week I had no idea who you were or that you existed, and now I’m sitting here, my heart completely invested into your wellbeing. You are incredible, Dean Winchester, just incredible. And you better wake up. Because we aren’t done yet. Do you hear me? We still need to- to kiss in front of Gabriel, and gross him out. We need to wake up in the same bed. I need to bake you shitty pancakes. I need to meet Sam not as his teacher. We need to have our first fight, we need to make up, we need to actually go on a date, we need to- to… We need to do so much. And I can see us, Dean, I can see us together, even after a week. That doesn’t happen! Ever! So you need to get your lazy ass out of this bed as soon as you can, and you need to come back to me. Okay?” Castiel took his hand, leaning back in his chair. Castiel realized Gabriel would probably be home soon, and he would find the house empty, if he hadn’t already. Or was he home? Castiel didn’t know. He pulled out his cellphone, dialing the familiar number and letting it ring.

“Cassie? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Gabe.”

“Oh thank fuck! I was so worried! I came home, and there were blood soaked rags and blood on the wall and somehow there’s this weird circle dent crack thing like someone was slammed. Are you okay? Don’t you fucking scare me like that again! Where are you?”

“Gabriel, calm down, I’m fine! The blood is Dean’s. There was an accident, and he came to me for help. It’s… it’s bad, Gabe. He had a cut on his arm, and then his brother called, and he tried to kill himself, and when we tried to get to the hospital, Dean got stabbed.” Castiel’s voice broke on the last word. “And- and now I’m here with him, and it’s bad, Gabe, it’s so bad.”

“What hospital? I’m on my way.”

“No, stay home. Only one person at a time allowed in. It’ll be morning soon enough, and I can come home,” Castiel told him tiredly.

“Okay, Cassie, okay. But you call me if you need anything, you hear?”

“Yeah, I will, Gabe, I will.”

“And Cassie?”

“Yeah?”

“Where the fuck did this weird mark come from?”

“Oh… that… Dean may or may not have slammed me into the wall.”

“The little fucker! And you’re still there with him? Why!?”

“And then he may or may not have pressed his body against mine. And ki-”

“OKAY! I NOW HAVE UNWANTED MENTAL IMAGERY! BYE CASSIE!” Gabriel hung up the phone and Castiel felt a small smile tugging at his lips, but it was gone soon enough as he hung up the phone. Before he knew it, Castiel had rested his head on Dean’s lap, one hand still entwined in his, and was snoring softly.

……….

“S- Sam,” was the name that Castiel woke to. He sprung his head up from Dean’s lap and rushed blindly out of the room, his eyes still adjusting from sleep. He tripped over the bed leg, sprawling on the floor before turning back around.

“Don’t move! I’ll be right back!” Castiel yelled, opening the door and calling for a doctor. He moved back to the bed. “Hey, it’s Castiel. You’re fine, Dean, just fine. Everything will be fine.”

“Sam? Is Sam?” Dean gasped, breathing ragged and eyes wide.

“He’s on lockdown, but he’ll be okay. I promise you. He’ll be okay.” Dean nodded, leaning back and clenching his fists. A doctor and two nurses came in, one leading Castiel out and the other assisting the doctor. He found himself sitting in a chair in the ICU, feeling completely useless. Soon enough, the doctor came out, smiling brightly, and approached Castiel.

“Excuse me? Are you the boyfriend?” the doctor asked, looking at Castiel.

“I- uh, no, I-”

“Oh, my mistake, Dean kept asking for his ‘boyfriend Cas’ and ‘Sammy’. Sometimes patients mix up titles when under medication.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m Cas, and I guess- I guess I kind of am the boyfriend,” Castiel said, swallowing hard. The doctor nodded.

“Everything looks great, his stats are great, and if they keep up like this, we should be able to move him to a regular room within the next two hours. You can feel free to visit him, but remember; do not excite him in any way.”

“Sir!” Castiel called as the doctor walked away, standing and grabbing his arm. “Sir, today is the sixteen year anniversary of his mother’s death and his brother tried to commit suicide last night because he felt it was his fault she died, which ended in him being stabbed by a man who was angry that he wouldn’t date him. So please, tell me, how am I to calm him?” The doctor pursed his lips, looking Castiel up and down.

“I’ll send a nurse in with a sedative for Mr. Winchester.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Castiel then hurried back to Dean’s room, sliding inside the door and taking a seat in his chair.

“Cas?” Dean asked weakly.

“I’m right here, Dean, I’m right here,” Castiel told him, taking his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“What… happened?”

“We got to the Impala, and someone stabbed you. Dean, do you remember who it was?” Castiel asked, slowing stroking his thumb over Dean’s hand. Dean’s heart monitor began to bear faster and he shut his eyes, shaking his head and writhing his legs on the bed.

“Hurts,” he whimpered. Castiel traced his eyes up and down Dean’s torso, looking at the old scars that would soon have a new companion and feeling sadness grip his heart. “Like a bitch,” he added in a moment later.

“Someone will be in soon, Dean, I promise.”

“Promise?” he gasped.

“Promise,” Castiel replied, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Adam?” Dean asked, opening his eyes and looking wildly around the room.

“He’s with Bobby, they’ll be back later.”

“No!” Dean snapped. “Keep Adam- away.”

“Okay, I’ll do that.”

“Sammy?”

“He’s under lockdown right now.” Dean nodded his head briskly, then closed his eyes again, sucking in a deep breath and grinding his teeth together. Meg the nurse entered the room, and shot something into Dean’s IV. She gave Castiel a quick, understanding smile, and left the room. Within five minutes, Dean had finally calmed.

Castiel slumped back in his chair.

When the fuck did things start going so wrong in the last eight hours?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave me your comments! Thank you all so much for the Kudos you leave!


	5. Hell's Gate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck it. Fuck it all. No happy ending. I'm blowing this shit to hell. Stop reading now if you can't handle depressing endings. It will only get worse after this. I'll probably regret it tomorrow, but fuck this, I need to write this how it came to me last night. Short as hell chapter, and the next one is an epilogue, which will be equally short. This is your warning, right here, sorry it came so late and that after almost two months this is what I give you.
> 
> You're an amazing audience to write to, and I really am sorry for how I'm finishing this, but... it just needs to end like this.

Castiel was forced out of the room for the night. He slept in the waiting room, and as soon as he could, he was upstairs. But Bobby had beaten him to it, and he was conversing with Dean, who looked pissed off. When Castiel knocked on the door and entered, Dean looked away. Bobby rubbed the back of his neck and grunted at Castiel before leaving the room, looking back at Dean briefly, who waved the man out, and then at Castiel, beckoning him to sit. Castiel did so, then reached for Dean’s hand, who pulled it away. Castiel gave him a confused look.

“Dean?” he asked quietly. Dean looked away, towards the window. “Dean, what is it?”

“I’ve said some stuff, Cas.”

“Dean?”

“I- last night, I’m real happy you were there. You know, after… For driving me. Cas, I really am grateful.”

“Dean, what’s this about? What are you going on about?” Dean looked back with cold eyes.

“I wasn’t home last night and my brother almost died. Because I was out at the bar. And chose to go to you instead of him.”

“Dean, don’t say that, it wasn’t your fault!”

“Then whose fault was it!?” Dean shouted, sitting up and then sinking back down with a grimace, his hand over the bandage on his abdomen. Castiel raised his hand to take Dean’s once more, and then lowered it.

“It was no one’s fault, Dean, you don’t have all the answers, you couldn’t have known.” Dean snorted.

“If anyone was supposed to know, it’s me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Cas, I’ve known you for a week. A fucking week! I think it’s best if we just forget each other exist.” Castiel’s head snapped up, his mouth agape, eyes wide.

“You don’t mean that.”

“A week of knowing you, and this is what’s happened!”

“That isn’t my fault! _You_ found _me_!”

“And I regret it!”

“Who are you? This isn’t the Dean that was in the kitchen! That opened up to me! This isn’t you!” Dean’s face hardened before going neutral, his jaw clenched.

“This is the Dean that realized he made a mistake going through that window, let alone telling you the kind of things I told you. Family don’t end in blood, Cas, but you sure as shit ain’t my family. And I think you need to leave, so I can focus on my brother, and keep him alive for as long as I can. Do you understand me?” Dean finally met his eyes. Castiel nodded, not trusting his voice. He rose, then turned back, looking at Dean’s broken body.

“If you ever need me, you know where to find me,” Castiel whispered, and left.

He wouldn’t see Dean again for a very long time.

When Castiel reached the parking lot, it had begun to rain. And he didn’t have a car. Or an umbrella. Or a jacket. He shrugged to himself, and began to walk. At least in the rain no one could see his tears. He hoped Sam would be okay. He hoped Dean would be okay. He wanted Adam to have a good life. These were all things in his mind as he walked, as well as the hope that one day Dean might call. Might just realize how stupid he had been. Tell Castiel it was the pain meds talking, not him.

He could hope for an eternity.

By the time Castiel reached his and Gabriel’s home, he couldn’t tell if it was snot, rain or tears that was coating his face. He was shaking, freezing his ass off, his teeth were chattering. Castiel ignored it all until he reached the doorknob and found his couldn’t make his fingers bend to turn it. Cursing, Castiel smashed his foot against the door twice, then proceeding to wrap his arms around himself, sneezing loudly. Gabriel swept the door open, his mouth open, and it slammed shut as he took in his sopping wet brother. In less than a minute, Gabriel had flung Castiel into the hallway, stripped off the man’s wet clothes, and rushed his naked ass into the living room, wrapping him in a blanket, then putting another blanket on top of him that appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and laying his body over top of Castiel’s.

Neither spoke for a long moment. Castiel because his teeth were still chattering and he was much too embarrassed about the fact that his brother had stripped him bare ass naked and he hadn’t said a word. Gabriel, because he assumed Castiel needed the quiet, at least for now.

Finally, Castiel opened his mouth. “Thank you.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Gabriel told him.

“You c-can get off me,” Castiel stuttered, a shiver running through him. Gabriel just shook his head and snuggled closer.

“I’m an asshole, but a warm asshole. Wait. That sounds wrong. Perfect.” Castiel made an attempt to role his eyes, but it hurt, they were too stiff from the wet and the cold.

“Gabriel?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t mention D-Dean okay?”

“What did he do?” Gabriel asked calmly.

“N-no shouting?” Castiel questioned.

“When your brother shows up at home hypothermic and covered in snot despite the rain after walking for God knows how long, you assume it has something to do with his super gay romance with the hot guy who broke into our house.”

“That was a very l-long sentence.”

“Deal with it.”

“He’s just not ready.”

“If that’s what you say, I believe you.”

“He might come back.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

Castiel paused with his mouth open.

“I don’t know.”


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another chapter before this, just a reminder.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading this and for sticking through it. Feel free to comment below.

Five years after Castiel had last seen Dean, he had almost forgotten the man. His life had been wonderful. He had a permanent teaching job and he was still living with Gabriel regardless, because a life with his douchebag brother was better than a life alone. Castiel was happy. He didn’t have a significant other in his life, but that didn’t matter. He had his family.

Two years back, his father had called, crying. He had told Castiel how sorry and how wrong he had been. He asked Castiel to come home, Gabriel too. He had been trying to find Lucifer. They all met back at the old house. Even Raphael had cried at the reunion. Castiel was astonished to discover that Lucifer had been living half an hour away from Castiel and Gabriel for a number of years, and that the shirt he had borrowed from a doctor that night so many years ago had, in fact, belonged to Lucifer.

They all met regularly, Lucifer visiting nearly every day on his way home from the hospital. The three of them laughed freely and frequently.

An ad in the paper brought Dean Winchester abruptly back into Castiel’s life. There was an announcement near the back that proclaimed that the wedding of Dean Winchester and Lisa Braeden would be happening in three weeks. A swell of emotion filled Castiel, and he found so many old memories of the single week he had known the man coming back to him. Within five minutes, Castiel had set the paper down, a large smile on his face.

Dean was happy.

Castiel was happy.

That was all he had ever wanted.

Another three years after Castiel had read that article, Gabriel had moved out of the house. He had married a lovely girl named Kali, and they were living together on the other side of town. Castiel had gotten a cat. Or two, or three. He also owned guinea pigs. There may or may not have been six of them. He hadn’t been in a relationship in a long time, and he didn’t mind. He was focused on school and his students and his family. Who else would be the babysitter for Lucifer when he couldn’t watch his baby boy at night? Lucifer’s wife had died delivering him, and whenever the man had night shifts, Castiel took over.

It was on one of these night shifts, baby Desmond ten months old, that Castiel decided to crack open ye olde newspaper. Nearing the back, he saw an article with a familiar name. One Lisa Winchester had given birth to a bouncing baby boy named Ben, much to his father, Dean’s delight. The article sat heavy in Castiel’s stomach. He continued to stare at the infant’s picture, marveling at how incredibly adorable the child was. He smiled a soft, sad smile, and folded the paper, turning back to look at his nephew.

He had everyone he needed in his life.

Yet another five years later, Castiel still read the local paper. But he needn’t have called to know what happened; Gabriel had been a witness, six cars behind with Kali and their two daughters in the car with him. A black four door ’67 Chevy Impala had been smashed to bits, a pregnant woman and her child killed, while the husband had survived with barely a scratch on him. A transport had been unable to stop at the red light and run directly into the passenger side that held both the woman and the child. Gabriel had called as soon as he was done testifying.

The article in the paper had picture of the ruined car in the front. The names of the people were also revealed; Dean, Lisa and Ben Winchester, Dean the lone survivor. Reading the article had made it real. All too real. Castiel broke into tears. He sobbed for God knows how long. He had never met either of these people. He hadn’t spoken or had an interest in Dean’s life in thirteen and a half years. But an innocent woman and two children were dead. A man’s life was ruined.

How would anyone come back from that?

Castiel didn’t go to the funeral. It didn’t seem right. He wasn’t invited, but it was one of those kinds that was open to the community. He was tempted to ask Gabriel to go with him, but eventually decided not to. The last thing Dean needed was for Castiel to show up in his life, especially in his time of grieving.

The day after the funeral, Castiel regretted nothing more than not going.

Three months later the news came in the paper once more.

Castiel never read the paper again.

Dean Winchester was dead.

He had been found with his wrists slit in his bathtub. Castiel hadn’t gone to school that day. Or the next, or the next. On the third day, he awoke with still puffy eyes, and somehow managed to get his suit on. He got outside and found Gabriel leaning against his car, expression soft as he gestured to the vehicle. Castiel got in wordlessly and they drove to the church in silence.

For some strange reason, there weren’t as many people as Castiel imagined there would be. He thought the entire town would go; surely Dean had made an impression on many people’s lives.

Sam spoke for Dean, as well as Adam, and both of their wives. A little girl talked about her uncle Dean and began to cry. Bobby spoke. Benny spoke. Two women named Jody and Ellen spoke. Finally, the announcement for anyone else who wished to say a few words came, and Rufus rose to speak, as well as nine other people. Finally, Castiel got up out of his seat and made his way to the podium. He cleared his throat.

“A few of you may remember me from a long, long time ago. My name is Castiel Novak, and I knew Dean for a brief and precious time in my life.” Castiel could feel his face growing hot, his eyes beginning to water. He cleared his throat once more, and looked up. “It has been nearly fourteen years since I’ve spoken to Dean, and that may be the greatest regret I have. De- Dean Winchester touched so many people’s lives, and I am very grateful to have been able to know him for the short period I did. I wish more than anything that he had asked for help, and I wish I could have been there. Thank you.” He stepped down, wiping his hands over his eyes again and again. By the time he reached Gabriel, he was shaking. He hadn’t been able to look at the body while he was up there. Looking at the body was accepting it. It had been fourteen years. He should have forgotten Dean a great many of them ago.

But he would never forget Dean. He knew he could never forget him, no matter how hard he tried.

That was just the kind of man Dean was.

And when it came time to linger after the funeral, go to the cemetery, Castiel didn’t go. He asked Gabriel to drive him home. Gabriel still hadn’t spoken a word. They went inside together, and sat on the couch, which had since been replaced since the ass print ordeal.

Castiel looked at the window and a smile cracked his lips.

“My God he was an idiot,” Castiel laughed, wiping at his eyes.

“I thought he’d climb up on a chair just like me,” Gabriel commented, chuckling wistfully.

“He seemed to consider it.”

“Knew he couldn’t match my awesome.” Castiel snorted, and they fell into a silence. “I wish you could have had something, Castiel.”

“There was nothing to have.”

“I know you feel that way. But still. I just wish it could’ve been different.”

“Me too, Gabriel. Me too.”

Many years later, Castiel would say his vows to a man named Alexander. And one day while he was out with his husband, they ran into Adam Winchester and his family. Adam embraced Castiel, thanking him for saving his brother all those years ago. Castiel had hugged back, and wished he had done more. Eventually, after a brief conversation, Castiel got Adam’s number. He and Alexander visited the remaining Winchester brothers and got caught up.

They were never friends, per say, but Castiel had a special place in his heart for those boys.

Castiel and Alexander grew old together. Alexander, being Castiel’s senior by three years, died first, quietly in his sleep. Castiel followed him a half a year later. And maybe, just maybe, in his heaven, Castiel would get to see Dean, and he would get to tell him how sorry he was for not going to that funeral, for not fighting harder. And then maybe he could let go of Dean and the guilt he hadn’t realized he had been carrying.

Perhaps, in death, Castiel had found peace at long last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Again.


End file.
